"A day in the life of Sydney Bristow"
Disclaimer: I own nothing…do you really think I'd be writing this if I did?
Summary: A very long day…(S/V). Sydney makes a deal with Sloan…how did she get to this point in her life? God, I suck at writing summaries…just read it.
A/N: I realize this probably will make no sense at the beginning, but just read it through. I guess this is written in the style of 24 (a show I have never even seen!) This fic focuses mainly on a 24 hour time span in Sydney's life, with flashbacks and flash-forwards.
Please review!
Prologue: Brutal Truth
July 28, 2002—9:42 P.M.
I look up into Sloan's cold, hard eyes, hating him more now than I ever have before. I want to kill him, to beat him within an inch of his death and leave him a bathtub, bloody and broken. His iron-cold voice jars my thoughts, bringing me back to the brutal truth that I face.
"Ahh, but don't think I'd make it that easy for you Sydney, because the truth is that would be making it quite simple. I'm sure you value your life just as much as the next person does, but the facts are clear: you hate me more than you love your life. So lets face it, when faced with a situation of choosing my death with a risk to your life, or safety for yourself, it's fairly obvious what you would do. No, Sydney, I would not want to make anything that simple for you…that's why I brought a little collateral with me…just something to turn the tables in my direction. Works pretty well don't you think?"
That's when I saw him—bruised, beaten, bloody—the man I wake up for every day. His hands and feet were tied, and the gag around his mouth was so tight that I could see trails of blood on his chin from where it had cut into his lips. His hair was disheveled, one of his beautiful green eyes was surrounded by a black and blue ring of bruising, and I could see that his right arm was puffy and swollen—near the elbow a white splinter of bone pierced the skin, the cause of the dry water-falls of blood which marred his arm. He looked horrible, and I loved him more than ever. His green eyes locked on mine, and I could see pain and worry written all over them.
I'm too shocked to think…or move, for that matter.
"So lets recap here, 'Syd'. I have offered you two options, one of which—from your stand-point—is probably looking better and better. You will either help me bring down the organization which I have poured so much of my life into, namely SD-6, promising me my life and safety, or I will kill your boy here. Agent Vaughn, I believe his name was? But let me promise you, Sydney, I won't make it a 'quickie'. I'll make it long and drawn-out, and let me tell you…he will suffer."
I see the piece of shining silver in the palm of his hand, which lashes out abruptly in a violent motion. "No!" I manage to release a horse scream, and as I do I can feel the blood which has been safely nestled in the back of my throat spew out, spraying the floor in front of me. Just as my own blood hits the gray pavement, I see the sharp scalpel held firmly in Sloan's grip connect with the left side of Michael's face, leaving a long red gash that stretches from his cheek-bone to his chin. His head bows down in shock, his face contorted with pain. He seams too tired to even cry out.
Sloan's hallow, emotionless voice drones on. "Just to make you understand that I'm deadly serious. Your playing with the big boys now Sydney, and no one,—not the CIA, which you so valiantly spied for, or your pathetic handler who seems to be far too emotionally attached to you, or even your precious daddy, who as you can see is currently detained—no one is going to get you out of this bloody mess that you've created for yourself."
I look from Vaughn—suffering silently in the corner—to my father, who lies motionless in a pool of blood some feet away, and back to Sloan. "How do I know that I can trust you?" My voice sounds weak and foreign in my own ears.
He gives me an evil look before responding, "You mean how do you know that I won't back-stab you just as you did to me? Well, the fact is that you don't. However, if you value the life of Mr. Vaughn here—''
He trails off, giving Michael a well placed kick in the gut before continuing on, "I'd suggest you find space in that sweet little heart of yours to trust me."
I nod, having nothing left to do. In a simple bowing of my head, I have betrayed my country and my honor by collaborating with a man I swore I'd take down. In the last twenty-four hours I have been shot, lied to, tied to a concrete barrier, and been betrayed by those who I would have trusted with my life. I have shot my father, planned a conspiracy with my handler's sister, run away from my mother, and have given up everything for the man I love.
Thus passes another day in the life of Sydney Bristow.
TO BE CONTINUED…
A/N: I realize that this doesn't make sense, but this fic will be like a puzzle, and it will slowly come together chapter by chapter (pay attention to the time at the beginning.)
Love it? Hate it? Please review it!
Disclaimer: I own nothing…do you really think I'd be writing this if I did?
Summary: A very long day…(S/V). Sydney makes a deal with Sloan…how did she get to this point in her life? God, I suck at writing summaries…just read it.
A/N: I realize this probably will make no sense at the beginning, but just read it through. I guess this is written in the style of 24 (a show I have never even seen!) This fic focuses mainly on a 24 hour time span in Sydney's life, with flashbacks and flash-forwards.
Please review!
Prologue: Brutal Truth
July 28, 2002—9:42 P.M.
I look up into Sloan's cold, hard eyes, hating him more now than I ever have before. I want to kill him, to beat him within an inch of his death and leave him a bathtub, bloody and broken. His iron-cold voice jars my thoughts, bringing me back to the brutal truth that I face.
"Ahh, but don't think I'd make it that easy for you Sydney, because the truth is that would be making it quite simple. I'm sure you value your life just as much as the next person does, but the facts are clear: you hate me more than you love your life. So lets face it, when faced with a situation of choosing my death with a risk to your life, or safety for yourself, it's fairly obvious what you would do. No, Sydney, I would not want to make anything that simple for you…that's why I brought a little collateral with me…just something to turn the tables in my direction. Works pretty well don't you think?"
That's when I saw him—bruised, beaten, bloody—the man I wake up for every day. His hands and feet were tied, and the gag around his mouth was so tight that I could see trails of blood on his chin from where it had cut into his lips. His hair was disheveled, one of his beautiful green eyes was surrounded by a black and blue ring of bruising, and I could see that his right arm was puffy and swollen—near the elbow a white splinter of bone pierced the skin, the cause of the dry water-falls of blood which marred his arm. He looked horrible, and I loved him more than ever. His green eyes locked on mine, and I could see pain and worry written all over them.
I'm too shocked to think…or move, for that matter.
"So lets recap here, 'Syd'. I have offered you two options, one of which—from your stand-point—is probably looking better and better. You will either help me bring down the organization which I have poured so much of my life into, namely SD-6, promising me my life and safety, or I will kill your boy here. Agent Vaughn, I believe his name was? But let me promise you, Sydney, I won't make it a 'quickie'. I'll make it long and drawn-out, and let me tell you…he will suffer."
I see the piece of shining silver in the palm of his hand, which lashes out abruptly in a violent motion. "No!" I manage to release a horse scream, and as I do I can feel the blood which has been safely nestled in the back of my throat spew out, spraying the floor in front of me. Just as my own blood hits the gray pavement, I see the sharp scalpel held firmly in Sloan's grip connect with the left side of Michael's face, leaving a long red gash that stretches from his cheek-bone to his chin. His head bows down in shock, his face contorted with pain. He seams too tired to even cry out.
Sloan's hallow, emotionless voice drones on. "Just to make you understand that I'm deadly serious. Your playing with the big boys now Sydney, and no one,—not the CIA, which you so valiantly spied for, or your pathetic handler who seems to be far too emotionally attached to you, or even your precious daddy, who as you can see is currently detained—no one is going to get you out of this bloody mess that you've created for yourself."
I look from Vaughn—suffering silently in the corner—to my father, who lies motionless in a pool of blood some feet away, and back to Sloan. "How do I know that I can trust you?" My voice sounds weak and foreign in my own ears.
He gives me an evil look before responding, "You mean how do you know that I won't back-stab you just as you did to me? Well, the fact is that you don't. However, if you value the life of Mr. Vaughn here—''
He trails off, giving Michael a well placed kick in the gut before continuing on, "I'd suggest you find space in that sweet little heart of yours to trust me."
I nod, having nothing left to do. In a simple bowing of my head, I have betrayed my country and my honor by collaborating with a man I swore I'd take down. In the last twenty-four hours I have been shot, lied to, tied to a concrete barrier, and been betrayed by those who I would have trusted with my life. I have shot my father, planned a conspiracy with my handler's sister, run away from my mother, and have given up everything for the man I love.
Thus passes another day in the life of Sydney Bristow.
TO BE CONTINUED…
A/N: I realize that this doesn't make sense, but this fic will be like a puzzle, and it will slowly come together chapter by chapter (pay attention to the time at the beginning.)
Love it? Hate it? Please review it!